Chapter 2.
“But are you sure you’re alright, father?”
A sigh came out of Anakin’s respirator as he paused in tinkering with his right leg. He looked across the medbay to his son, who had multiple bacta patches placed on his bare torso. After using their combined power to divert the ship's course, both had felt the strain on their bodies, Anakin even more so because he wasn’t even fully healed. Then again, it always seemed that Skywalkers always pushed themselves to the very limit — the son as much as the father, Anakin thought with some chagrin, if not more.
“Yes, my son, I am all right — just like the last ten times you asked me. If you must obsess over injuries, do so with your own."
Luke flushed at that. "I'm just making sure you’re alright, I'm not getting obsessed over it —"
Anakin cut him off. "Let me rephrase what I just said — like the last ten, no, eleven times you have asked me — in the past hour alone."
Luke stood there for a second, then sighed. “I’m sorry Father, it’s just having you out so early is unexpected. Yet I’m thankful you helped.”
Anakin nodded and replied, "I'm glad to have helped. I did not want you to kill yourself so soon after our escape from the Emperor."
Luke nodded silently, conceding the point, before T4-KN re entered the room with a scanner, running it over Luke first, then Anakin. The droid examined the results, before addressing the two humans.
“Well, the scans seem to check out for the most part," he began, his optics shifting from Luke to Anakin. "Both of you are so far in a stable condition; other than erratic brain waves from Sir Luke. Judging from the patterns, they are likely from overwork and sleep deprivation. A night's sleep or two should do the job for you. However...” he turned to Anakin. “I would strongly like to advise Lord Vader that he return to the bacta tank to continue finishing his recovery before doing anything more strenuous. Despite you looking healthier than you ever have these past years, there is still some risk of —"
Anakin cut the droid off firmly. “That is enough, Teefour. I am feeling alright at the moment, and am fully aware of my limitations. I thank you for your assistance, but it’s no longer needed at this point.”
The medical droid was silent. Its photoreceptors blinked for a moment, then he spoke. “Very well.” It said in a surprisingly calm tone despite it being synthetic. Though if one can hear closer it would be like the droid was annoyed. "I shall see to my equipment and other medical supplies then — for when you do have need of me." Turning around, he strutted away with a synthesized huff.
Luke winced at the retreating droid. "Father…" he began with a disapproving tone.
"Don't even start," Anakin warned. "You don't know Teefour like I do. Submit to just one of his recommendations and he'll heap more upon you without warning. First it's a bacta tank for a couple of days, then next thing you know you're strapped to a gurney with full intent to operate because a minor artery is but seven micrometers away from where it's supposed to be."
Teefour continued to strut away, muttering to himself and wrapped up in his wounded pride. Therefore he failed to notice the heavy box full of spare parts and tools before he practically walked into it, his heavy foot smacking right into it. Now it was commonly believed across the galaxy that droids feel no pain, but that wasn’t entirely true. If a normal man is able to punch a droid with their bare fist, or even remove an arm with tools, then that statement would certainly be true. However, if you were to shoot at it or fire an electric pulse… or, say, it were to stub its foot against a relatively hard object — like a tool box, for instance — then in a way a droid could feel pain — especially if his programming allowed for that.
Teefour was currently proving that point spectacularly, hopping on one foot while grabbing the other, releasing a string of invectives in Binary that left Luke and Anakin mildly impressed at the surgical droid's colorful language. “Ah damn bullocks!” the medic Droid growled. “You blasted astromechs! Quit putting your equipment in my station!” He picked up the box items and tossed it into a different part of the room.
Obee rolled into the room with another box in his manipulator. “Violence is not the answer, Teefour. Isn't it a medical droid's directive to do no harm?” The little droid said, with Kyugee behind him, quick to add his own two credits in a string of Binary. Obee chuckled.
“You know, Kyugee, you’re right! T4-KN gets angry too easily for a medic droid.”
Teefour clenched his mechanical fist and waved it at the Astromechs. “Shut it, you! I’ve tolerated the unorganized mess you two have made, but I refuse to let you two make a mess at my station. Be off with you, you mechanical menaces!” He flipped his hand at them in a classic universal "shoo" gesture. "I have enough to do without you two little miscreants cluttering up my med bay! Begone!"
"Ah, but you see Teefour," Obee interrupted, gesturing at the boxes of assorted parts, "we brought these spare parts here to build new prosthetics with your input. You are the expert in organic biology, after all! Who better to ensure the new limbs work perfectly for Lord Vader than the one droid in charge of his health?"
Teefour stared at him for a few seconds, then shook his head and groaned. "Oh, very well, you little flattering menace, get your parts over here and organized, and I'll see what you have already," He muttered begrudgingly as he began to help the two Astro droids place and organize their essentials, chattering with Obee in fast streams of Binary.
While this was going on Luke sat there, contemplating something he had realized while stretching his mind out to the presence they were now moving towards. Anakin looked towards his son in concern.
"Is something wrong, Luke? You seem troubled."
Luke looked up to him and shook his head. "I don't know for sure, father," he said, his brow furrowed in thought. "I think I might have been wrong when I said that Force presence was growing."
Anakin tilted his head. "How so, my son?" he asked as Luke turned toward him.
"Have you noticed," Luke began slowly, "that not only has it been growing faster since we changed course, it's also becoming clearer in the Force? More distinct?"
"I — " Anakin paused as he stretched out his sense of the Force towards that presence they were now aimed at. "Oh…" he said, with growing wonder.
"Exactly, "said Luke, with growing fervor. "Earlier, it seemed hazy and hard to grasp, like we were seeing it through a fog bank. Now, our sense of it has sharpened, like we were seeing it far away, and are now seeing it up close!" He got up and began to pace. "But the Force doesn’t work like that! Distance shouldn't matter on how clear you sense something, I remember Yoda telling me that. So if it isn't distance, then —"
"Something was concealing it," Anakin breathed in amazement. "We must have been moving through the fringe of whatever is hiding it, that's why we sensed it!"
"And now that we are on course to meet it — "
"We are further penetrating the concealing element —"
"And seeing more of the presence more clearly!"
"And thus, the illusion of growth!"
The two of them were grinning like sugar-crazed younglings now, the excitement of their revelation leaking into the Force.
Obee looked back and forth between the two humans for a moment, then let out a synthetic sigh, shaking his dome in fond exasperation. Organics — so easily excited. Ah, well. Might as well make himself busy — an update on ship diagnostics seemed due, in fact. The little droid trundled out of the med bay over to the main computer and plugged his spike into one of the I/O sockets, immediately accessing the diagnostics center.
“Well, now let’s see here…”
As soon as he connected, warning signs and alerts flooded his inbox. It wasn't just internal damage to deal with, though there was plenty of that — but the outer hull was also damaged. There were even some foreign objects, some barely larger than the muzzle width of a blaster, embedded into the hull. This, he already knew; he had in fact even risked going EVA in hyperspace to retrieve a sample — it was well worth it, and not just because it got under Teefour's chassis. Spectroscopic analysis was… interesting, to say the very least. They couldn't be micrometeorites since, for one thing, they were in hyperspace and thus could not accrue micro impacts. For another, the fragments were not of any mineral that he could detect. Instead, the substance was more metallic — a refined duranium alloy, markedly different from the ship's ultrachrome hull in terms of strength and quality. In all his records there was only one major structure with a matching alloy structure: the Death Star. The idea may be implausible but not impossible. Five days before, just entered hyperspace as soon as that second larger, colossal super weapon exploded. It wasn't too far-fetched to conclude that some fragments had been dragged into hyperspace with the ship, or maybe some faster, small fragments hit the ship just before it jumped. Either way, it wasn’t surprising to see that said metal survived in hyperspace, it was made to survive harsh environments despite its spectacular destruction.
However, this was ultimately irrelevant to the current problem. OB-1 sighed once more; judging from the initial reports alone, the amount of repairs needed would not be possible with current resources. At this point, their priority might as well be making the ship livable long-term post landing. Of course, they would actually need to land first — and Lord Vader never had a good track record with those, even during the Clone Wars. Still, they would manage. After that, the priority would be ensuring the survival of both ship and organics — even if the ship will never fly again it can serve as an effective temporary home until rescue. As it was, they wouldn’t be able to make another jump to lightspeed once they dropped out, fuel notwithstanding. Sublight would also be a problem — with the fuel all but depleted, they would only be running on fumes… wait.
How odd, Obee thought to himself. The fuel levels seemed a bit higher than he expected. Could the course change have been responsible for conserving fuel? Or perhaps the meters on the cockpit were also off calibration -unsurprising, given the state of the place-? No matter. Obee ran an obligatory recalculation, using what little of the navicomputer that remained to plot out a rudimentary prediction. His circuits froze. That couldn't be right! He checked again, and for a third time. The results remained the same. Something like panic flashed through his CPU as he scrambled to find ideas. Would that work— no, no, that would take too long. How about this? No, that wouldn't be effective enough in the timeframe they had — wait a moment! He sent a silent message to QG, still with Teefour: Look at this! He went over the simulation with his twin over and over again, and he felt the droid equivalent of elation scatter across the link. An affirmation was made, he disconnected from the central computer, and he sped back to the medbay, circuits buzzing. He had to admit when he was a hypocrite: droids were just as excitable as organics, from time to time.
Luke and Anakin turned to gawk at the pair of droids as they practically blurred into the medbay, excitedly chattering away in Binary so fast neither organic could parse out what they were saying. Teefour ambled after them into the medbay, shrugging.
"I haven't the foggiest clue what's gotten them so wound up," he reported grumpily to Anakin. "One moment QG was with me, then all of a sudden Obee shot through the room and he followed, both squealing like giant mouse droids. I'll never understand these astromechs."
Luke bit his lip to keep from laughing, reminded of a certain pair of droids back home with the Rebel Alliance. Anakin just shook his head, huffing, before addressing the two.
"Very well you two, tell me what you have found that has you so excited."
The two droids continue to blabber and chatter in a bizarre mixture of Basic and Binary, their excitement clearly overriding their logic circuits. The two humans exchanged a single glance before Luke raised his voice.
"Hey guys!" The droids froze mid-rant. "Mind filling us organics in on what you found — in a way that we can actually understand?" Luke asked, not even bothering to hide his amused grin.
Obee and QG looked at each other, then Luke, to each other again, then back to Luke. "Well, you see," Obee began, sounding quite sheepish, "I have discovered something — we have both good news and bad news, as organics say." His holoprojector lit up, and a technical readout of the ship's schematics appeared before them, with various subsystems highlighted — the fuel system in particular — while Obee began to elaborate.
"During a check-up I was running on the systems, I noticed that our fuel reserves are slightly higher than initially predicted — likely a fault in the cockpit's measuring gauges. I ran the calculations, and…" He hesitated, and a ripple of worry ran through Luke and Anakin.
Anakin leaned forward expectantly. "Go on," he said, beckoning Obee to continue.
The little droid seemed to steel himself for what he was about to say. "At the current rate of fuel consumption, we will not reach depletion until we have passed through our target system and back into interstellar space. When that happens…" he left it hanging.
Luke immediately connected the dots, his face pale. "We'll be stranded in dead space, with no way to turn back," he finished in a hollow tone. It couldn't end like that, could it? The two of them trapped in a dead starship, waiting for either cold, hunger or suffocation to take them?
Obee's photoreceptor flickered in affirmation. "That would indeed be the case — if it wasn't for the source of our good news." Father and son looked at each other. "And… that would be?" Anakin prompted.
Obee immediately turned back to the projection, where another system was suddenly highlighted. "While fuel control from the cockpit is certainly not viable," Obee began. “The actual fuel control system is still largely intact. It is actually a relatively simple task to, at the exact moment we must, directly shut off the fuel from the central computer system, which will enact the failsafe system early —"
"Dropping us out of lightspeed at the right spot," Anakin finished, nodding. "Between myself and Luke, we can sense the timing needed through the Force. We will not be using it," he added firmly, sensing that Teefour was about to object, "But merely reaching into it, so it may guide us. That does not cause any exertion."
Teefour hesitated for only a moment, then sighed. "I know that you won't take no for an answer," he groused, "So I won’t bother with objecting but expect a physical afterwards, and a bacta dip. I'm not taking any risks with your life, Lord Vader — even if you will."
Anakin gave him a long, steady look, then nodded. "Very well," he said in a short tone. He turned to Obee. "What is our current timeframe?"
Obee was quick to answer. "From what little the navicomputer could tell us, we have roughly fourteen standard hours before we miss our window." Anakin nodded.
"That will be enough for you to take a short rest," he said to Luke, who opened his mouth to object. "You will be needed to help with timing through the Force, and are of no use to this effort with no sleep," Anakin cut him off sharply. Suddenly he was once again every bit of the military commander that had been respected and feared from the Clone Wars, through the Empire's twenty-three year history, to today. "You will sleep for seven hours, and then join us — but not before. Do not argue with me, son. We will need you as close to your best as possible."
“And what about you? You aren’t any better off father! In fact, I would say you're in a worse condition!" Luke shot back hotly.
Anakin nodded. “You are correct. I am indeed aware of that, but the only place I could properly rest is in the bacta tank. It would take too much time to put me in, and then pull me back out. That is why I will take this time to meditate as deeply as possible, the way Jedi have been trained to when sleep isn't available."
Luke blinked once, then he blinked again. "Yoda never mentioned that," he half accused. It seemed to Anakin that Luke had inherited his father's foul mood when he got sleep deprived — Padme had called it "The Cranky Side of the Force", much to his chagrin.
Anakin shrugged. "He likely didn't have the time to teach you how," he pointed out. "Besides, it's a last resort for when sleep isn't possible, not a replacement." He was intimately familiar with that fact. "No more arguments, Luke, we have work to do later." He jabbed a finger towards the young man's face, the mechanical appendage less than an inch from Luke’s nose.
"So now, my son, you will sleep."
Luke eyes widen noticed the surge in the Force flow within his mind. It was too late to react and his vision grew hazy and his eyes felt weighed down by lead. "Now that's… just… cheating…" he managed to slur out before slumping over his father's shoulder, completely dead to the world. Anakin watched over his son with some amused fondness and a little déjà vu — and trying to ignore how Luke was now drooling through his armorweave cape.
Never let it be said that Anakin Skywalker was above some dirty tricks himself.
Satisfied that his son was properly comatose, and in a proper bed (where he wasn’t drooling onto his shoulder anymore, thank you very much!) Anakin made his way to the central lounge, where he sat in full lotus on the couch. He set a timer in his suit, and then, remembering something, opened a comm to Teefour. He ordered Teefour to work with the astromechs in setting up for the fuel cutting procedure, and to monitor Luke, but not disturb him —though a few holo pics of him drooling into his pillow were permitted — there was always time for friendly blackmail, after all!
He settled into his meditation, letting the Force flow through him. As he entered it immediately; he felt a liquid-like warmth, like that of heated water running over his skin; soothing, comforting, like Padme's voice after months of war… He sternly centered himself, then reflected on the past week's events.
While in meditation his exhaustion was becoming… less, in a way. It wasn’t gone, but rather slowly dimming away — he was in a state that could generously be called sleep, but his mind was still active and thinking while his body rested. He had used it multiple times during the Clone Wars, when true sleep wasn’t an option. It kept him functional and alert, but didn’t quite serve to replace true sleep. It did allow him to think clearly about different things that had been bothering him since the escape. First and foremost on his mind at that moment was the ship they were currently aboard. How the kriff did this ship get on the Death Star from the Executor!? Only he could arrange for it to be moved — or so he had thought. Had an officer gotten his codes somehow? Said that it was on Lord Vader's orders that the ship be brought to the Death Star, ready for launch? Of everyone on the Executor there were only two people, conditionally three, that were possibly capable of such. He ran through the short list on his head.
He briefly considered Piett, but quickly dismissed the notion. Capable and loyal to Vader as the Admiral indeed was, he was still too wary of his superior to take such initiative — especially since it was such actions on the part of his predecessor Ozzel that had gotten him promoted in the first place. If Admiral Piett had anything to do with this, it was not his idea — he likely didn't have any knowledge of the transfer beyond being notified of an order from Lord Vader. That left two suspects — Kreel and the 501st Commander. Kreel was definitely loyal, fanatically so, to Vader. He had been among the most openly concerned for his Lord since Bespin — especially notable given the Sergeant's tendency for stoicism. Then again, Vader had taken to wandering the halls of the Executor in a kind of depressed haze that even the most Force-deaf of sapients could pick up on… in hindsight, he could give Kreel a pass on that one. It was hard to see from the outside, but the 501st Legion was a very tight-knit group. Vader’s Fist looked after its own, no exceptions. And no one fit that category so much as their leader, the Legion's namesake, who more often than not, entered the fray alongside them, his saber as likely to protect them as it was to harm them. While he would have never let it get in the way of his Imperial duty, Vader did indeed care for the Fist, in his own way. He knew their hardships. There were times where he even started calling them vode in his head, like when he had been with the clones… with Rex… he pulled away from the trip down memory lane and refocused on the issue.. It wouldn’t have been hard for Kreel to rally the stormtroopers to the cause of 'defend Vader even if it means high treason,' it definitely made sense for him to be behind this... except for one fact. Outside of SCAR Squadron, Kreel didn't have much authority — hell, he wasn't even well-liked. He was too abrasive and cold of a man for the others to follow wholeheartedly. Plus, he admitted himself that he wasn’t any good at leading a large group like the 501st — that was why he led the relatively small SCAR Squadron.
That just left Commander… funny, Anakin couldn't remember his name. He had joined the 501st just after Vader had received the Executor and formed Death Squadron. The trooper didn't talk much, at least when Vader was around, but he was efficient, loyal, as skilled with a blaster as they came, followed orders to the letter and exactly the way Vader intended — even when he didn't say anything. Most of all the Commander was especially devoted to the success of the 501st as a whole. He had gained such popularity in the Fist so quickly that Vader was sure that if he had even dared to remove the commander, the whole Legion would have resigned in protest. Also, it didn't happen often, but Vader could swear that the Commander seemed concerned about him. The Commander had a presence not unlike a brother looking out for his younger sibling, from time to time. Sometimes, the man seemed oddly familiar, like he knew Vader from a long time ago -- even though Vader had never once even seen his face. It was only in hindsight that Anakin realized this strange closeness, this familiarity between the two. In other more leisurely times he would have confronted the trooper about this, but Vader had been preoccupied with the enigma and unreachable goal that was his son. He never had time to get to the bottom of things.
Hours flew by. Luke slowly began to stir from his sleep, he groaned a bit as he sat up. Rolling his shoulders, cracking his neck. He felt good and refreshed. He wondered how he fell asleep, until it came rushing back to him.
“Really, father?” Luke asked drily, shaking his head while he stood up from the bed. He straightened and twisted his back, a satisfying crack came from his spine.
Leaving, he made his way towards the central lounge. There sat his father meditating calmly. It did look like he was sleeping peacefully. The breath mask sounded very calm, emitting slow, deep breaths.
The force began to fluctuate. Anakin was awake now, standing from his lotus position he turned to Luke and spoke. “I see you have awakened from your sleep.”
Luke deadpanned a bit. “Yeah, no thanks to you.”
He could hear how miffed his sons were in his tone of voice. Anakin couldn’t help but release a chuckle. It is humorous to see his son like this, it was too much like those times he got one over on Obi-Wan, long ago. Their potential banter was cut off by a sudden squealing from the nearby timer.
Anakin’s levity fled within seconds. “Luke, it is time.”
Luke’s face turned serious and determined — once again, his Jedi discipline showed. “Understood father. Alright guys, is everything tied down?” He shouted over his shoulder, and Anakin could hear the whirring of mechanical wheels as the droids sped over to them. “Yes! I have double and triple-checked! There’s nothing loose!” replied Obee, Kyugee next to him snapping off a salute with a manipulator.
Anakin nodded. “Get into position and make ready for the cutoff. Luke and I will open ourselves to the Force now.” The droids wheeled away, whistling and blarting excitedly in Binary. Anakin turned to Luke and gestured to the couch. Luke nodded and assumed full lotus on the couch. Anakin quickly sat down next to him, and as one, they reached out.
Immediately, the full span of life energy in the galaxy was visible to them — every single being was as a star unto themselves. By themselves, they were but dim points of light. Together, they outshone the galaxy itself; a current of light that never waned. The surge of life curved and meandered through impossible angles, throughout space and even time. It was into this current that father and son reached, opened themselves as much as they could without being lost in the flow. They delved into the flow with a singular, united focus, a lone question shared between then, asked unto the Living Force:
When?
Soon, came the answer that was without words, that was but mere sensation. The seconds passed by without notice, and yet each nanosecond was as an eon to the Jedi. They waited with bated breath, waited for the signal, the sensation that would tell them —
“NOW!” They shouted as one. Immediately, Kyugee shut off the fuel line, while Obee monitored the power levels in the hyperdrive as they instantly dwindled. The drive sputtered for a few seconds, then shut off, the silence cutting into everyone’s ears more sharply than a vibroknife. For a few, breathless moments all was still. Then, there was a groan and a shudder that rippled through the ship, and the whole room seemed to jump a meter sideways. Luke and Anakin braced themselves as momentum threatened to tear them from their seats. There were a few muffled crashes — some of the bonds had failed. And then, there was silence.
Anakin and Luke waited for a few minutes, waiting to see if anything else would happen. There was nothing. Slowly, they got to their feet, and made for the bridge. The first thing they saw as they entered was the bright yellow sun in the distance, the little pair of blue and silver spots that had to be a planet and its moon, and the stardust barely visible behind them. They stared at the view, something that was so welcome to them after a straight week in hyperspace, for a full minute. Then, wordlessly, they went to the few working consoles and got to work. There was still much to be done, and little time.
On the cold, cold moon, circling a lone world orbiting a solitary star, the sole presence that dwelled on its barren face for a thousand years began to stir.
How much time had passed? She couldn’t tell, for there was no proper way to discern how long time had gone by save for drawing line after line in the lunar sand. That had become repetitive after only a year into her banishment, but what else could she do, aside from staring at the blue and white marble in the distance in a powerless wrath, unable to even scream her fury into the void? She remembered a line in a book she once read: “I have no mouth, and I must scream.” Her own situation was arguably worse — she had a mouth and still she could not scream! There was no sound here on the moon -- it is impossible to even whisper on this barren, airless wasteland! A worse prison she could not have imagined, even at her cruelest.
She paused in her internal ranting, then nearly crumpled from her renewed rage. That she, once the mightiest warrior in the great land of Equestria, the highest of nobility save only one other, master of the night itself, be brought so low as to think of her beloved moon in such a scathing light!? It could not be borne! By far, this was the worst of her humiliations. How her mind hadn’t cracked was beyond her. Maybe it was the dark power that she possessed that preserved her, such was its might! Maybe it was the quest for vengeance against her sibling that condemned her here to this most ironic of hells, where she would even despise her most beloved treasure. Or perhaps it was the sole consolation that she could, from time to time, cast the cruelest and most unspeakable horrors she could conjure into the dreams of those fickle ponies below, punishing them for their abandonment.
A punishment her traitorous sister would bear too, curse her bleeding heart! Let the sun-dappled wretch watch them suffer and know it was her own doing! Perhaps, when she finally returned, she would let her sister remain, rather than take her own place… if only to watch her ill-gotten, spineless farce of a kingdom come crashing down, and a newer, greater empire takes its place! Oh, how the other nations would cower! Griffons, Changelings, Abyssinians, even those insipid Yaks! All would kneel and be made to respect Her beautiful night — respect, or suffer.
A shockwave of magic, echoing across the void in a discordant cacophony, broke her out of her reverie. What in the world was that!? Following the echoing thunderclap ringing in her horn, she turned her gaze starward; had it been any other situation, she would have paused at the fact that she had not even looked to the stars once in the millenium she had been sealed. Her sight, augmented by the seat of her power, could make out the intruder — an oblong thing of mirror-bright metal, cheerily reflecting sunlight and starlight alike as it drifted sunward. And the power it held within— it seemed to her as both sunlight and moonlight in equal measure! Truly it was a worthy prize, if she could just reach it! Even as she bore witness to the dual power, it receded into the distant speck — a vessel of some kind, she now understood… and slowly heading towards her world. Perfect.
Slowly a grin began to form, baring her teeth and showing her pointed, almost predatory teeth, the eldritch power seething just beneath the surface of her horn. She could not bring her powers to bear just yet, it was still too far. She would need to wait for it to come nearer before she could consider pulling it onto the moon, and reaping the rewards within.
So, the Mare in the Moon settled down, and waited. For what was one more day, compared to a thousand years?
It was cool and clear that night, and the skies above Canterlot were as clear and smooth as crystal glass. Not even the barest whisper of a breeze troubled the great mountaintop city. Nor were any of the ponies living within troubled at all, every single one of them having long since turned in for a peaceful night. All in Canterlot were sound asleep at this point — all, that is, except for two little figures, a unicorn and a dragon, on a tower near the Royal Palace, standing next to a large telescope aimed at the bright full moon.
Twilight Sparkle looked at the moon in the viewfinder of the large reflector telescope, making sure that the great silver orb filled the viewfinder's field of vision. It was larger than usual, owing to the fact that tonight it was closer to the world than usual— an event called a supermoon by scientists. The arrangement of craters and lava fields on its face, taking the incredible likeness of a unicorn's head, was perfectly clear tonight — perfect for Twilight's purposes.
Keeping an eye on the viewfinder, she lit her horn. With small, precise flashes of magic,, she carefully began to turn a pair of knobs on each side of the telescope, slowly turning it this way and that, until the crosshair was perfectly centered on the large lighter patch that had long since been dubbed "The Mare's Eye." Suddenly, a small "ahem" made her jump with a little yelp. Concentration broken, she turned to scowl at the little dragon standing so innocently behind her. "Yes, Spike? Was there something?" She asked sweetly, the kind of sweet that implied infinite pain and suffering for the poor sap in her sights.
"Only the part where you tell me why we're up here in the middle of the night," Spike replied just as sweetly.
Twilight blinked for a few seconds, then laughed weakly. "I glossed over that part, didn't I?" She asked in a sheepish tone.
"More like you skipped it entirely," Spike replied flatly. "Now spill it, Twilight. What's so important that you had to pull me out of bed in the middle of the night?" He tapped his foot against the ground in a classic 'I'm waiting' gesture. She was going to talk sooner or later, she couldn’t help it.
Twilight didn't disappoint. "We're observing the lunar phenomenon known in legends as the Blue Flash, in order to ascertain its possible origins."
Spike looked nonplussed. "The Blue Flash? What the hay is that supposed to be?"
Twilight looked at him in disbelief. "How can't you know about the Blue Flash!? You've read practically the entire horror section in the Royal Library!" It was practically the only kind of book he ever touched, aside from — she shuddered — comic books.
Spike only shrugged. "Probably wasn't in any of the good parts. So," he leaned forward expectantly. "Blue Flash. What is that? Care to explain for the unwashed illiterate here?"
Twilight rolled her eyes at Spike's antics. "It's a rare event that occurs at random occasions on the moon," she explained. "At least once a year, at roughly midnight, it is said that one can see a flash of blue light shoot from the 'Mare's Eye' formation." She gestured at an open book at her side, where a lunar map was visible. "Legends say that the Blue Flash is a sign that predicts horrible nightmares for those who see it. The typical old mare's tale, you know the drill," she finished drily.
"So…" Spike thought for a moment. "Why are we even looking for it if it's just an old legend? It isn't real, right?"
Twilight chuckled and replied, “While I’m sure it actually doesn’t cause nightmares, the Blue Flash is a documented event. To this day, ponies haven’t found out what really causes it. Or rather,” she added ruefully, “they wouldn’t really try. The astronomy professor looked like he was about to start laughing his head off when I said I was going to observe the event. He said that it was best to ‘leave fortune telling to the hack oracles at the carnival.’” She adopted the low, nasal tone of the professor so well that Spike burst out laughing.
“So, he wasn’t interested in why it happens?” he summed up when the laughter passed. ‘No,” Twilight said.
“Ponies are either too caught up in superstition or too dismissive of it. Either way, no one seems to want or care to know why. Everything has a reason, Spike.” She looked up at the moon. “It’s just a matter of finding out what that reason is. So, are you with me?” She turned to Spike again with a little smile. “Number one assistant of mine?”
Spike immediately snapped off a Royal Guard’s salute. “Ma’am, yes ma’am!” He held the salute for a solid five seconds before the both of them burst out laughing.
“Okay, okay, little soldier, get your butt over to that button will you?” Twilight pointed to a little box with a button on it, with a wire running to the telescope. “It links to a set of magic slides in the telescope. When the Blue Flash appears, I’ll tell you, and you start clicking that button a couple times a second. The light will burn on the slides and —” she stopped at Spike’s glazed expression. “Basically, it’ll take pictures of what the telescope is pointed at,” she finished meekly.
Spike nodded. “Push the button a lot when you tell me to. Got it. So… when is it supposed to happen?”
Twilight looked at the open pocket watch hanging from the telescope. “Should be any time now, let’s get into position.” Spike walked over to the button as Twilight put her eye to the telescope, keeping it fixed on the Mare in the Moon and its single Eye.
The minutes seemed to crawl by. Twilight kept her focus on the eyepiece, waiting… waiting… waiting… It almost seemed like time had frozen, the world around was so silent and still, the Moon through the telescope static and motionless —
A tiny flicker of blue.
“Spike! Now!” Twilight shouted. A yelp from behind her told her the baby dragon had nearly fallen asleep, and then frantic clicking filled the air as he began to mash the slide button. The light grew, then instantly flared, eclipsing the Mare's Eye… then just as instantly, it faded and vanished.
Twilight immediately pulled the slides out of the slot in the side of the telescope and bolted downstairs, Spike ambling behind groggily. She immediately laid the slides out in a row on her desk, underneath a lit oil lamp as the photos slowly came into view. She stared at it, looking for any flaws in the six magically enhanced and magnified images, one after the other. Did it show? Did the slides catch the Flash — ?
“YES!” Sure enough, the azure burst of light, start to finish, was displayed fully on the slides. “SUCCESS!” Twilight crowed in delight. “We caught the Blue Flash on camera! It’s only a matter of studying it and discerning possible origins, narrowing it down —”
“Uhh Twilight… What’s that?”
“Huh!? Spike, what are you talking about? It’s the Blue Flash, we just talked about it —”
“No no, I mean ,” Spike pointed at something on the third slide. “That.”
Twilight was confused at what Spike was pointing at, deciding to take a look. Her heart began to beat at a quick and loud pace, so loud she could hear it from her ears. Her eyes slowly widened and in disbelief. This was not possible, and yet it was. Magic slides didn’t lie and she knew it wasn't some type of speck that got in the way.
There on the magically enhanced photo, off to the side of the moon, was a tiny, yet very distinct, silver triangular shape.